


A Straight Line

by ligeia



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-15
Updated: 2010-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ligeia/pseuds/ligeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim wants more than he can actually take, Spock relents and lets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Straight Line

Jim Kirk's on the bed, arching into Spock's mouth, toes tight as he releases. He lies there for a second, breathing heavily, the air settling thick and warm around him. He closes his eyes and it would be so good to sleep right there like his body is telling him to, but instead Jim pushes himself into a reclining position, knees still around Spock.

"Mm. Do you know, you're too good at that," he mutters over the protestations of his body that's willing itself back down onto the bed. "A little too fucking good at that, actually."

Spock eyes him with a curious expression, not looking at all like he had a mouthful of Jim's cock down his throat a minute ago. "I was not aware advanced skill is considered disagreeable," he responds in a serious tone, eyebrows mildly arching.

"Yea. It makes me wonder, you know." Jim responds lazily, sidling up to Spock, pressing close with knees and arms around the Vulcan. "If you're just a fast learner..." That dick was also pressed close now, so fucking huge and hot, he grinds to feel it deep against his hip. Jim plants kisses down Spock's neck and chin, latching on to leave a mark. "...or if you're just getting more experience somewhere that I don't know of."

"You presume I carry a favorable view of intimate involvement following our shared experiences."

"You're an ass," Jim continues absentmindedly, still arching and pushing against Spock, resuming his attention on Spock's neck.

"Very well, I will address this concern in subsequent sessions," Spock responds in a detached manner, somewhat still even as Jim continues to writhe. He could almost hear Spock's unspoken reservations and is already impatient to move beyond them.

It comes to no surprise, then, when Spock places a hand against Jim's chest, pushing him back with gentle pressure. "Jim...what do you intend."

"I thought we were having sex here." Jim quirks an eyebrow, "If you'll oblige, that is, _Commander_."

Maybe it's some conditioned response to protocol from hearing his title, but Spock rouses at that, backing him down onto the bed again. Hovering over him and running hands down his chest and arms, Jim thinks for a second that they'll get there sooner than he figured. It's dark, but he knows Spock's watching him closely, silently, only continuing to smooth hands over him. This doesn't help matters, and he just knows that he's in for a wait now because Spock's in no hurry to get on with this.

"Jim. You fully realize how I feel for you," Spock finally says, quietly. He's serious, but Jim can't help himself.

"Yea," Jim responds, grinning. "You need me. You'd do anything for me. Tell me you need me and will do anything for me."

"If you are so certain, there is no need for me to say otherwise." Spock is caressing his hand now, but Jim's had enough of Vulcan stalling, so he jerks his hand upward to grasp Spock's wrist.

"Good. Then we agree." He pulls down on the arm to bring Spock in closer. "Then why aren't you fucking me yet."

If not for the mild creasing of concern in his brow, the expression on Spock's face makes it appear for a second like he's reviewing diagnostics. Jim almost thinks it's funny, but then he's also losing patience, and rapidly. When Spock opens his mouth to speak, there is a moment of hesitation.

"All who serve on the Enterprise do so with a full understanding of the risks involved and choose to undertake the mission."

Jim just stares at him. " _What_?"

"The losses of Lieutenant Dean and Ensign Jaworski are no fault of your own, Jim."

"What is this about? Spock—" He sighs, resigned, releasing Spock's wrist. Suddenly Jim was exasperated, frustrated, annoyed with Spock, and fed up with this pointless and prolonged cockblock. "The hell are you going on about - you just had my dick in your mouth a second ago."

"Which renders further action on your body unnecessary at the moment."

"Fuck, man...you're really trying to avoid this, aren't you?" Well, that comes out a bit whinier than intended, but he's not paying attention anymore to care.

There is sweat trickling into Jim's eyes, which he wipes off haphazardly. He throws his attention upward, for a minute unable to face that insufferably calm expression. Those men, bodies abandoned now on that planet, appeared again to Jim, who was powerless but to order withdraw from the bridge of the ship that day. He didn't know them well and when he tried to remember which of them told him they had a son back on Earth, he couldn't, and the impotence of effective action bubbled inside him.

Spock takes one of Jim's hands back in his own, thumbing the palm. Jim swallows the bile welling in his throat and turns to Spock, needing to act. When Spock speaks again, Jim barely hears him. "It is not a matter of personal avoidance on my part...Jim, there is no need for you to go through with this."

"Would you stop thinking about me and fuck me?" Jim reaches over to grasp Spock's dick. When Jim's rewarded with narrowed eyes and a quiet but sharp intake in breath, Jim flashes a shit-eating grin in triumph. This hand Spock quickly seizes too, stilling him with a soft grip.

"You are so certain," Spock murmurs before taking his mouth into a gentle kiss, and Jim doesn't reply but tightens his hold on the cock in his hands. When Spock releases his hold, Jim instantly coils arms and legs around the body above, the beat of the Vulcan heart against him a steady strum.

He tries to forget that hostile planet and the men condemned there through inaction - he should forgotten by now regardless; enough time has passed that entire systems separate them. But an intangible weight remains, as well as a feeling of crushing helplessness. Jim tightens the hold on the body above him, pulling Spock closer. For a moment before the welling need crests, there is harmony as Jim curves his neck to tilt deeper into Spock, who, in blessedly obedient mood, immediately follows his lead. It's as if Spock's assent triggers a surge of power through Jim's nerves, but to finally be in motion feels so fucking good he's gasping when Spock breaks the kiss. "You wanted this, didn't you, so fucking bad," he says, voice cracking amidst ragged breaths.

Spock leans his forehead against him. Jim's not sure if any sound actually comes out when he hears Spock speak, voice barely a whisper: "I do not wish to hurt you."

Jim chuckles low in his throat. "Maybe I like it when you hurt me."

"That is apparent," Spock replies. He doesn't say anything after that, instead using his mouth to trace tender kisses down Jim's face.

Jim's breathing hard now, both from the near-stifling temperature and because of Spock. Spock's skin hot but dry and his weight sinks Jim into the sheets. Pinned to the mattress like this, sheets damp from perspiration and clinging to his back, it is already almost too much. He knows he's fucking lost, driven into the corner by the tide that's removed all but the need to have this, feel this, right now. Need impatient for Spock to split him raw, fill him, and leave him a tangle of tender and soiled body parts. Then he'll have his small victories, where stoic Vulcan façades contort briefly, overcome by climax, and the lingering ones, when he can't sit comfortably for days. Something palpable - this pain, and having Spock bend to his will - it's something he can hold and shape in his hands, a palpable object all but already solid in his palms. He whimpers, maybe.

"Oh, fuck", Jim breathes, and Spock moves an arm to smooth some hair, and it's like he's petting him or something, but something begins to crawl inside Kirk. "Move", he says, tightening his legs and rolling his hips.

"I will acquiesce," Spock says simply, rising and lifting Jim's back and ass off the bed. When Spock enters, slick, Jim doesn't feel it could make it past the tight ring of muscle, but does, and as he feels himself spread open he thinks he might be suffocating slightly. And yes it hurts; it hurts even as his prostate is nudged, shooting a tingle of pleasure straight to his cock. His first officer is a reasonable man, so even as Spock's brows knit together in pleasure and eyes squeeze shut only to force themselves to open, he still gives Jim room to adjust, to remember to breathe, smoothing hands in reassurance again. But Jim is having none of that, because he knows all Spock really wants is to fuck him hard. It might be delirium from the heat when a devil-may-care smile is all the advance warning he gives before forcing himself deep onto that dick, ass howling in protest. He's staggered by the fullness he's taken in. He's used to seeing it, of course, and he remembers hearing of Vulcan anatomy during the Academy - but fuck if he knew it'd be such a turn on.

He is rewarded by an audible gasp above him and the unmistakably warm, ebbing trickle of blood that accompanies splitting throes from inside. Jim curses loudly, it was too much, too large, taken too quickly, but when proper vision returns and he stops seeing stars, he's feeling a little smug at taking Spock by surprise. If the Vulcan thinks it's a little fucked up that his captain's feeling good and getting a hard-on again only _now_ , he doesn't say anything, but looks visibly strained when he brings hands up to Jim's head, brushing his hair and temples.

"Jim..." Spock says, breathless.

"Do it. Please," Jim croaks, feeling completely exposed and utterly invaded. He hears every exposed nerve clamor, muscles briefly paralyzed. Gritting his teeth, he forces down the urge to retreat, instead pulling Spock in closer, holding and keeping him there. Spock's follows instantly on command, moving, pulling out and thrusting slowly into him, sending sharp, searing pain straight up Jim's spine.

It begins with measured thrusts, gradual and allowing Jim to adjust. It shouldn't make sense, but it's this, feeling the knife's edge against him, that reassures him he was right in thinking he can do this, right for wanting to do this to Spock. It makes sense to him, for Spock, in finally filling Jim with more than he can possibly take without bodily harm, yet doing so regardless.

Jim's burning now, fucked wide and hard, and every time Spock's dick pushes fully back into him he thinks that solid, reliable body is wedging a part of itself deep inside. It just makes him clutch tighter. He doesn't take his gaze off Spock now, transfixed by the small creases in his expression as the climax builds. He squeezes hard around that enormous cock when Spock comes, doing so with a soft and short exclamation, looking like a man who's realized he's lost the battle right at the second preceding his death.

Spock's body is taut above him, dick still buried hilt-deep inside Jim, with back arched and thighs still wrapped around Spock's waist. They are fleetingly frozen in place before Jim falls back onto the bed with a soft moan. Spock pulls out slowly, his muscles a vice clamping down around the dick as it withdraws. His ass feels loose and abused, seeping traces of semen and blood flowing freely, and Jim's arms and legs land on the bed as dead weights, uselessly unresponsive.

"Jim. I need to survey the extent of the injury - do you require assistance relocating to the bathroom?" By now of course, Spock has completely regained his composure. Jim tilts his head up to stare at him, body catatonic.

"Ugh," Jim says with a moan. "I think your assistance will be the only thing getting me there, Spock." He groans as he pushes himself onto knees and arms, turning onto his belly and falling heavily back onto the bed. Spock seems fine with this, and lets Jim rest there, leaving the bed sheets a grimy mess. A delicate touch kneads at his opening, slick and yielding.

"The normal levels of your muscle tension will return, but not immediately. The damage to the epithelial lining may take longer to heal, possibly a few days with application of topical analgesics..." Spock's voice is cool, his touch gentle and attentive. Kirk feels himself drifting off.

"A few days?" Jim responds in a muffled voice against the pillow, closing his eyes and feeling weary. "Wanna bet I can get you to do this again tomorrow morning?"

"Your diligent attention to my physical gratification notwithstanding, I hope you do not deliberately seek inflicting further injury on yourself," Spock says as he pulls up beside Kirk, so typically patient it kills him.

"Like I said, maybe I just like it when you hurt me," he says, feeling the heavy blanket of sleep pulling him under. "Oh, you love me. What will you ever do without me, Spock..."

"Naturally, the action I would undertake awaits only your word," he hears Spock answer as his conscious finally gives way to the slow, inching victory of slumber.


End file.
